MetaMorphosis
by RavenTears
Summary: Years as VFM have taken their toll on Relena, mentally and physically, now she must escape or die. Subplot of bioengineering & DNA reconfiguration - chapter 1 done mostly in flashback -
1. The Plan

MetaMorphosis

_"For he who lives more lives than one_

_More deaths than one must die."_

_-Oscar Wilde_

  


She stood in front of her bedroom mirror, losing herself in the aquamarine pools that were staring back at her. Relena watched the reflection she was so familiar with for a long while before turning on her heel with a decisive swish of her robe. The face in the mirror was no longer hers, she reminded herself. She had been losing that person very slowly and for a long time now. That person, with her honey-colored hair and blue-green eyes, was nothing more than a memory trapped between glass and silver. Soon it wouldn't even be there, either. That woman was for the history books to remember. She was a person necessary to keep the world alive, but doing so had killed her.

Relena flicked on the light in the bathroom and went straight to the shower, avoiding the medicine cabinet mirror. She turned on the hot water, letting it run through her fingers absently while she waited for it to warm up. It reminded her of the decontamination showers at the research facility.

****

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" the young man asked for the third time, while measuring out fluid in a syringe. "The research on its effects hasn't been completed yet."

"Yes, I'm sure." The young doctor looked at her over the rims of his glasses. He didn't know why this young woman was so eager to risk her health like this, but whatever the reason, it had to be quite important to her. She was young, healthy, and very lovely. He surmised that she must be someone famous, the way she hid her face behind her sunglasses, held her head up high, and walked as if she always had a purpose. She was a far cry from the twelve that had volunteered prior to her. They were all meek and cowering types, as if a different hair color might change their luck with life.

"The potassium iodate will shield your body's thyroid gland from absorbing any radioactive iodine." She extended her arm and he administered the drug. After discarding the needle into a bio-hazardous waste container, he picked up her file off of the desk. "A nurse will prep you for the IV of MM-13," he looked down at the name written on the application at the top of the file, "Miss Collins."

Aileen Collins. An alias to be sure, but somehow, it fit. Aileen seemed a perfect match for that long black hair, contrasting so sharply with her pale skin, and crimson lips. The only name perhaps more suited to her would have to be Snow White. She was definitely an accurate modern day depiction, right down to her tailored black suit with the modest skirt that ended just above her knees and heeled shoes that clicked as they walked down the tiled floor toward the radiation room.

It was noted in her file that this would be her third and final visit. This struck him as unusual since after radiation therapy, the patients were required to come in for follow up examinations every three months. She must have put down a lot of money for the kind of special treatment she was getting. During her two preliminary examinations she had talked little, save to answer the doctors' questions, and revealed nothing about herself to anyone, not even who her regular doctor might be, as if that little tidbit of information might give away all of her secrets. 

What he wouldn't give to get a look at _her_ mitochondrial DNA.

He stopped suddenly at a blank door, causing Relena to stumble slightly to keep from walking into his back. She hated high heels; what she wouldn't do for a pair of flats or even her boots right now. What's more, she had thought that once she had become Vice-Foreign Minister she would be free of the restricting skirts of her childhood. But here she was, wearing a skirt and stiletto heels, and all the while putting her trained poise and grace to the test trying not to scratch her itchy scalp and get hair dye under her fingernails.

"Inside you'll find a gown," he waved at the door. "When you've finished changing just leave your clothes on the chair. A nurse will be here when you come out." And with that he left her alone, his footsteps echoing depressingly in the empty corridor.

The room, it turned out, offered no comfort, and if anything, was more depressing. Folded neatly on a cold, metal chair in the corner of the small bare room was a plain hospital gown with matching courtesy slippers set on top.

She undressed quickly and slipped the gown on. After a few checks to make sure that everything was tied up properly, she stepped into the oversized slippers and shuffled back out into the hallway. Just as the first doctor promised, there was a middle aged male nurse waiting for her. The man was leaning against the opposite wall and reading over her charts. She felt terribly exposed, with everyone passing around her medical history as if it were a good novel. 

"Ready for your IV?" he asked, looking up at her reassuringly.

"Of course," she responded honestly.

"Then if you'd follow me, please," he opened another door a bit further down the hallway and led her into the room and into a chair. She didn't even flinch when the needle was inserted into the back of her hand, and in a few moments the tube was securely taped down. "That was impressive. Not even the slightest wince," the nurse acclaimed in mock admiration. "I think you deserve a lollipop." She couldn't help but smile just a little at that. "Finally! And here I thought you were made of stone."

He picked up a small insulated container marked with bio-hazard warning decals and led her out the door. The sheer monotony of the hallway they walked through made the trip seem to take hours, when in fact a female technician seemed to materialize from one of the identical doorways after only a few minutes.

"Have you said your final prayers?" she questioned mockingly. Relena nodded, even though the thought had never occurred to her. "Then lets get this show on the road. Follow me." Relena found it difficult to keep up with the woman's rapid pace without losing a slipper, and so she was relieved when she finally came to a halt in front of two very large steel swinging doors.

"Go right through there, if you will," the woman said with a wave toward the doors. "We'll be with you in a second. We have to put on the suits." The Suits. The Suits that protected the technicians from radiation poisoning. This was it. Once she walked through those doors, she was exposed to the radiation and there was no turning back. 

She walked through without hesitation. After three plastic curtains, Relena found herself in a large white room. The sarcastic woman was waiting for, her leaning languidly against some very sensitive-looking machinery, while the male nurse removed the IV bag of MM-13 from the cooler. They were covered from head to toe in protective material as white as the walls that surrounded the three of them. Except for the one wall off to Relena's right, she noted amusedly, which was mostly a one-sided mirror where observers could watch the procedure that was going to take the place of plastic surgery. This was particularly unusual considering that testing on humans was still illegal during this stage of research, and the room was of such a size, that it would be superfluous for any non-hominid experimentation. 

The technician kicked a very odd-looking steel platform with a metal frame that came up on two opposite sides and was joined with a metal lintel about seven feet off of the base. The strange device was attached to the floor, and she noted with curiosity the tracks in the frame. Relena could see the woman smirking behind the transparent material that exposed the moon of her face.

"Hop on," she said as if it were some amusement park ride. Relena had to step up just a bit to get onto the thing and quickly found out that the platform was as cold as it looked, despite the thin slippers she wore. "Here. Open your mouth," the woman held out a tube and took a mouthpiece out of its sterile prepackaging.

"Oxygen?" Relena asked apprehensively. She couldn't seem to remember when the doctors had mentioned artificial respiration in their briefing.

"Mostly." She attached the disposable mouthpiece to the tube. "You don't have any problems with that, do you Princess?" Relena flinched slightly at the unintended use of her former title, but opened her mouth and closed it when ordered. She waited patiently while her nose was plugged up and the IV tube was connected to her left hand. Her hands were then lead to steel handgrips jutting toward her from the inside of the frame at just about eye level. She watched the IV bag being turned upside down and hung off to her left and above her head. 

She could feel the serum enter her bloodstream; after all, it was considerably colder than her average body temperature. In a few moments, she found herself shivering uncontrollably, and didn't notice the floor opening beneath the platform. A strange white box was riding the tracks on the metal frame and sliding up the length of her body. She was vaguely aware of the humming of the motor pulling it up from beneath her feet and of a distant voice telling her to "look up" just in time to see the thing pass her face. It eventually reached the end of the tracks about a foot and a half above her head, and it switched gears and traveled back down, back towards its home beneath the floor.

****

Relena was jolted back to reality when the hot water nearly scalded her hand. She quickly adjusted the temperature setting, and when it had cooled down, she let her silk robe slide down her shoulders and pool about her feet. She reached in and turned on the shower head before tentatively stepping in.

The hot water rolling off her body helped her to relax and let her tense muscles loosen. It was so much more comforting than the cold showers at the facility.

****

Her teeth chattered loudly as the cold water harshly beat against her skin. She was given a second hospital gown and taken to a "clean room" where a doctor measured the amount of radiation she was giving off. After two more visits to the showers, her radioactivity levels were finally deemed "acceptable" and she was handed towels and allowed to dry off before being given her regular clothes to change into.

She looked herself over in the mirror one last time, checking to make sure the dye had held true to its promise that it wouldn't wash out without its accompanying rinse. She then reapplied her lipstick, slid her sunglasses into the breast pocket of her suit jacket, and walked out. 

The young bespectacled doctor was waiting for her. She followed him to his office, where he had first administered the potassium iodate, and there he performed a routine physical examination. He checked her pupils, her reflexes, and just about everything else. When he had finally given up trying to find something wrong with her he sighed, told her that they were done here, and offered to escort her to her car.

"Miss Collins, you came to this facility in top physical form. Not even a childhood cavity," he mentioned as they entered the main lobby. "I sincerely pray that whatever your reasons were for coming to us, they outweigh the risk you have put yourself at." He pointed to her breast pocket. "Remember your sunglasses before you walk outside; your eyes and skin will be especially sensitive to light for about a week. And if you feel any symptoms of radiation poisoning such as anemia, chronic diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, hair loss or suppressed immune system, contact us immediately." He stopped at the large glass door and turned to her. "You are the thirteenth volunteer to undergo this procedure," he crossed his fingers and gave her a small smile. "Here's hoping thirteen proves to be your lucky number."

****

Relena poured a sizeable amount of shampoo into her hand and started attacking her hair. She had let it grow unimpeded for a few years now, and at the rate her hair grew, it was now longer than Duo's, easily. Her bangs now, more than ever, resembled her brothers. They fell at rakish angles, often falling into her eyes. She knew that many people were whispering about her increasing resemblance to the Peacecraft line, especially the notorious Milliardo. The underlying fear was obvious. She knew that her appearance made them worry that she would become more and more like her brother, but despite her looks, she knew she would never turn down that path. Even so, the stares continued to follow her.

Relena watched the soap swirl around the drain at the floor of the shower, puffs of white floating on murky water. She shampooed and rinsed her hair again, to make certain all of the dye had been washed away.

It had been a year and a month already since she left that horrid maze of monotonous hallways and identical doors. The first two weeks were by far the worst. Waiting, praying, checking for symptoms of poisoning, and making excuses to stay out of the sun. When she first noticed a change in the color her hair at the roots, she almost shrieked with joy. Since then she had been on a constant daily cycle of waking up, getting in the shower, washing in the hair dye, putting in the contacts, and doing the makeup, but luckily, no one ever noticed a thing.

Relena stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. After drying off her body, she slipped back into her robe and began towel drying her hair. Once she had removed all the water she could, she reached for the brush that was sitting on the edge of the sink. She took the brush back to the bedroom, sat upon the edge of the bed and, out of habit more than anything else, began counting out one hundred strokes.

Her damp hair lay flat against her back, and her bangs were pushed behind her ears. She reached for the heavy silver scissors that were lying on top of the dresser and began to cut just above the line where the color changed.

Once she had finished, she took great care in gathering each and every strand and disposing of them into a small paper shopping bag, set aside for just that purpose. She then stood in front of the large mirror on the wall behind the bureau, and very carefully evened the edges of her hasty haircut. All of the trimmings fell onto the top of the bureau, and were easily swept off and into the bag.

Next, she went to her suitcase pulled out some undergarments, and out of the false bottom retrieved a red silk blouse, and the black suit she had worn that day at the Mont-Blanc Medical Research Facility. She put these on rapidly, and then went to a second smaller bag and retrieved a pair of red pumps that Relena Darlian would never be caught dead in. She stepped into them and then quickly went about cleaning up her suite of rooms. She gathered any items out of the bathroom that might lead people to her, like the empty dye bottle or hair brushes. All of these items went into the paper bag.

Then Relena went to the closet and pulled out her empty black briefcase; she had left all of the documents necessary to the position of Vice-Foreign Minister with her assistant Seth Brooks before leaving the meeting/dinner at five that evening. Into the briefcase she put only a few necessary items of clothing and her fake identification. She looked at the name on the passport and sighed. The briefcase clicked shut and Relena stood to look at herself in the mirror, but something was wrong. There was something she had forgotten.

With a blink, it came to her.

She hadn't taken out her contacts yet. Relena dug into the paper bag and pulled out the contact case. Carefully she removed her color contacts and replaced them to their case, before dropping the case back into the bag. Then she looked at the mirror again.

"Nice to meet you," she said to her reflection. She almost couldn't believe the change. Her hair was now platinum blonde and resembled Zechs' more than ever. She had cut it just above her shoulders, and it hung straight and sharp. The combination of red and black made her almost incomparable to Relena Darlian. But what would keep people from recognizing her while staring at her were her eyes. No longer was she wide-eyed and innocent; the shape of her eyes had become more gracile, and the color was a stinging ice-blue. She wondered what opinions Duo might voice about her new look.

Duo.

She had almost forgotten about him. Her brief look of doubt was quickly replaced by one of determination. She had been planning this night for six months and the plan she had formulated was near perfect. She had the layout of the hotel memorized, as well as the meeting schedule. She had gotten the fake identification cards, she had arranged for all of the documents necessary to her office (along with a few personal letters) to be delivered to the Prime Minister of Foreign Affairs in the morning. She had even pushed for the convention to be held in this historical hotel in the only part of Old London that had survived the Orbital Satellite System attacks of WWIII, therefore, the security system was severely lacking. It was the last day of conferences and meetings; if she didn't go now, the odds of getting a second chance were a million to one. She couldn't let a last-minute bodyguard replacement ruin her last chance at freedom.

She picked up her briefcase and paper bag and stepped onto the window seat. She pulled her hands into the sleeves of her jacket and then pushed the window up and open. Relena stepped out onto the fire escape, set down the bag and briefcase, reached into the hotel room, smoothed away any footprints on the window seat cushion, and again with her sleeves, shut the window.

After a quick mental check to make sure she had followed her own instructions down to the letter, she picked up her bag and briefcase and started down the fire escape.

  


*~*~*


	2. The Escape

MetaMorphosis

_"Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship,_

_and it is far the best ending for one."_

_-Oscar Wilde_

  


Duo was sprawled languidly in his chair while reading a motorcycle magazine he may or may not have snatched from Wu Fei's desk. He seemed oblivious to the fact that every other bodyguard on the floor was standing at attention beside their respective employer's door, and the ones in visual range were casting glances of bafflement his way, no doubt wondering how this obvious buffoon got the job of protecting the most important person at the convention. Duo was partly wondering the same thing (sans "buffoon"). 

But a job was a job, even though body guarding was, hands down, the most boring assignment for anyone, let alone for someone of his skill. Since Howard and the Sweepers were late coming back to L2 after their most recent excursion, business at the Maxwell Scrap Yard had hit a slump – and Hilde hated making late bill payments. So to Une he had come crawling, looking for some quick cash before the first of the month. Yeah, he kept telling himself, he was lucky that Lena's regular was hanging over a toilet somewhere. Then why did he feel as if his brain was about to implode? Thank whichever god was watching that this was the last of six agonizing days. If physically possible, he slid lower into his chair.

"Maybe I should take Sally up on that coupon she gave me for Christmas," his eyes glazed as he stared blindly at the ceiling. "Half off one lobotomy," he smirked at that.

At the sound of hurried footsteps up the nearby stairway, Duo straightened and checked the corners of his mouth for drool. Finding none, he folded his hands in his lap. He would sit up straight for whoever was coming, but Heero Yuy himself could not get him to stand at attention one moment longer.

His posture relaxed when he saw who it was. Seth Brooks was Relena's little prodigy, and thankfully, she had been able reverse a great deal of his prior training as a child of the upper class and turn him into a productive member of society. 

"Hey, Duo. Is Relena in?"

"Unless the past three hours have been some sort of cruel dream, and she snuck out while I slept."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." He hugged the folder he was carrying against his chest with one arm and knocked with his free hand. He was slightly surprised when there was no answer, but only slightly.

"Maybe she turned in early," Duo suggested, looking at his watch. Nine thirty.

"Well, this can't wait until tomorrow," he knocked one more time and when there was still no response, he pulled out his copy of the door key.

"Hey, are you sure you should do that?" Duo asked, worried that if he screwed up he might not get paid.

"Yes," and with that, he pushed the door open and walked into the room. The lights were still on. "Duo!" Starting to get worried as well, he followed Seth into the suite. Seth emerged, obviously flustered. Duo started to think Seth reminded him of Quatre. Maybe that was why Relena chose him. "She's gone, Duo." Duo started.

"Whaddya mean, 'gone'?"

"As in 'not present', 'left the building', 'skipped town', 'high-tailed it out of here', 'rode off into the sunset'. However you want to phrase it, Relena's gone."

"OK, OK . . . there's no reason to worry, she's ditched bodyguards before. She probably went out for a walk."

"Not this time, Duo," he said sullenly, waving the folder he carried. "This time it's for real. She's not coming back."

"Don't start talking crazy-talk on me. Relena would never abandon her responsibilities like that."

"She hasn't. It's all right here." Seth flipped open the folder and started shuffling through the papers held within. "She gave this to me after dinner and told me to deliver it to Jonathan Carlyle tomorrow morning. It was purely by accident that I found out what it was. If that clumsy intern hadn't knocked it off my desk. . . ."

"Well what is it already?" Duo came to read over his shoulder.

"The one on top is a letter of resignation. And the one underneath. . ." he paused, unsure of how to put it, "is a letter of recommendation."

"Recommendation? I don't get it."

"It's her recommendation that I take over the position of Vice-Foreign Minister until the next election. It also says that if I choose to run in the next election that it should be known that I have her complete support and endorsement."

"What about all the rest of the papers?"

"Just various documents; the usual peace treaties, border disputes, the Terra Forming Project, et cetera."

"OK, here's how it's going down: you wait here in case she comes back or someone comes looking for her. Don't tell _anyone_ that she's missing; that'll start a panic. Now the only way she could've gotten out without me seeing her is if she went down the fire escape, so I'll start looking for her there. If I'm not back by midnight, tell only Lady Une about what has happened. Got that?"

"Yeah, got it. You better get going, she's already got a head start on you."

"Right." in a few long strides, Duo traversed the room and was climbing out the window. He raced down the fire escape, not even bothering with the last flight and just jumping to the pavement below. He scanned the area. Oh great, he thought, she just had to escape to a dark London alley. Here's hoping there's no such person as Neo-Jack-the-Ripper.

*

After disposing the paper bag into the furnace of the hotel, Relena had started her sojourn to the bus depot. From there, it was a quick ride out to New London and its space port. She hadn't yet decided where she was going to go, or what she was going to do for a living, but she was sure that as long as she had the same chances as everyone else, somehow she'd be OK.

Relena clutched her briefcase with two hands, holding it out in front of her. She kept glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was following her, but it was just the normal hustle and bustle of Saturday night window shoppers, most of them teens, she noted. She found herself wishing she had been able to do something so simple as that when she was still a teenager, but quickly dismissed the thought. She was starting all over. She had missed her adolescence, but she still had years ahead of her and she wanted to enjoy them without worrying over what's best for everyone else, or how it might affect her image. She was being selfish, she knew, but if she kept giving away all of herself to others, what would be left for her? What would it do to her? How much longer could she go on living like that? She paused in front of a department store window, and caught her reflection in the darkened glass.

Why was that person reflected so sullen? Right down to her posture, she seemed weak, self-deprecating, and should have been wearing a shirt that said "DOORMAT". She shifted her briefcase to her right hand and stood up straight. There, that was more like it. She changed her pace to suit her appearance. Her stride became more confident, as if she were on her way to something important. Right there she resolved to maintain that facade until it sunk past "only skin deep".

It was then that she felt someone brush past her. She turned her head slightly and recognized the braid. Without thinking she said, "Duo?" She immediately realized her mistake. Duo was her bodyguard this past week, of course he's out looking for her. But it was too late; the damage had been done. Duo whirled around searching for the source, but didn't recognize a single face in the crowd. His only chance was to hope that she would react to her name.

"Relena?" He noticed a blonde woman with her head bowed flinch at the sound, and he immediately grabbed her arm. When she spun around and he came face to face with her he mumbled an apology and released her. It was obviously not Relena. But when he heard her murmur ever so softly, "It's all right," he caught up with her and stepped in her path to face her and block her way. "Relena? Is that really you?" He gently placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look him in the eye. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was as if she had been reborn as a female Zechs. Her eyes watered and she pulled her face away from his hand.

"Am I truly so hideous to you?" Duo hadn't realized it but the entire time he'd been staring at her with his jaw scraping the sidewalk.

"No, no, no! It's not like that! I mean-! I wasn't-! It's just such a shock!" Duo quickly scanned for a more private place to talk. "C'mere," he grabbed her arm but she yanked it away with surprising strength.

"I'm not going back!" She turned and ran headlong into the crowds. Duo started to pursue her but all too quickly she had melted back into the throng. As he shouldered through the pedestrians in chase, he was teased mercilessly with glimpses of her; a wisp of blonde hair here, a flicker of red and black there, and once in a while he found himself apologizing to look alikes. Eventually he had to resort to jumping on top of a parked car just to get a better vantage point. It was then that he spotted her trying to cross the street at a busy intersection. He got off the car and started heading toward the crosswalk when he heard tires screeching. Shoving almost violently past people, he got to the corner just in time to see Relena safely on the other side of the street, while two motorists argued over who was responsible for their fender-bender. Duo released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding before weaving between the cars stopped at the red light. Fortunately for him, Relena didn't see him until it was too late to run.

She struggled against his hold until he was forced to wrap both arms about her to keep her from writhing through his grip. He waited patiently for her to calm down in spite of the sidelong glances and head-shaking at the pair. Great, he thought to himself, now they think I'm some kind of wife-beater. She finally stopped squirming and did something he'd never seen her do, and quite honestly, didn't think she was capable of doing. She broke down in tears.

"Please don't make me go back there, Duo. I can't go back – I won't go back!" She was so tired of running; she was so tired of everything. . .. Her knees buckled, but Duo held her up.

"It's OK, Rel. I'm not gonna take you back, I just want to talk to you," he assured her calmly. "Can we talk?" She regained her footing, and nodded wearily. He kept one arm around her shoulders and led her slowly to the bus station, where he assumed she was headed.

As they walked though the fluorescent pulse of street light after streetlight, she recounted her story for him. He only interrupted her once or twice, to ask a question, but when she finished her narrative, he only asked one question. The one she had been praying he wouldn't ask.

"What are you going to do now?" he inquired innocently enough while opening the glass door of the bus depot for her. She changed the subject.

"How did you know this was where I was going?" she asked, looking up at her surroundings for the first time.

"A hunch. Here," he led her to a bench. "Wait here for a sec. I'm just gonna make a phone call. Relax," he defended when he saw an argument forming in her head. "I'm just going to tell Une that your safe, I won't say anything else, OK?" She gave him her tacit acquiescence and he left her there and found a phone booth. He fished out a credit card and swiped it before dialing Une's private line. Duo glanced at his watch. Ten minutes after twelve. 

Relief showed on the face that greeted him.

"Is she alright?" Duo was slightly confused.

"How did you know I had found her?"

"You wouldn't have bothered calling me unless you had given up or found her. It was too soon for you to have given up." Duo shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"Yeah, I've got her – in one piece, to boot. But listen, Une – I'm not-"

"-Bringing her back? I understand. I've read the letter."

"Why don't you seem surprised?"

"I am surprised. Surprised that she waited so long, surprised she stayed so long, but not surprised that she did it."

"Oh," was all Duo could say.

"Your paycheck has been directly deposited to your bank account."

"Huh? But I-? And she-? I get paid even though I'm not bringing her back?"

"Duo, you signed on as her bodyguard, not her warden. You just told me that she's safe; I have no reason to believe that to be untrue and so you have fulfilled your duty. What's more, your job ended," she glanced away from the screen, presumably at a clock, "eleven minutes ago. I thank you for your services and release you from your responsibility. And now, there's the damage control to think of."

"But what about Relena? She doesn't know what she's gotten herself into."

"I think she does, and I also think it was worth it. Une out." The screen went blank. Duo hung up the phone and the machine printed out a receipt for him. He shoved it into his coat pocket and walked back to Relena. 

"How did she take it?"

"Surprisingly well." He sat down next to her. "So now what?"

"Now? Now I walk up to that counter and buy a ticket to New London." She stood up; Duo stood up with her.

"What's waiting for you there?"

"The space port."

"Is it safe to assume that you won't be booking passage under the name Relena Darlian?"

"Yes, it is."

"May I see your passport? Speaking as a pro to an amateur," he assured when he saw doubt in her eyes. The briefcase snapped open and she pulled out a pink slip of paper. She handed it to Duo who inspected it thoroughly. It was one of those temporary slips they gave people who hadn't had their photos taken yet and couldn't be processed.

"Nice touch. The carbon paper I mean." He looked at the personal information. "Serena Windsor?" Relena seem slightly offended.

"It was my great-grandmother's maiden name," she defended.

"OK, OK . . . no need to get huffy. I just don't think I can get used to calling you 'Serena.' There's just no good way to get a nickname out of it."

"I suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world if you were to continue to use my given nickname," she said with a smirk. Duo smiled.

"Fantabulous, Lena. Now, about this," he flapped the slip of paper. "This'll only work once. Once the dust settles, we'll see about getting your personal history cleared up."

"We? Duo, I can't drag you into this anymore than I already have."

"Do I look like was dragged here? I don't think so."

"You have no idea the media frenzy that's going to follow this. It's bad enough you know as much as you do, but if you get involved in my disappearance, it'd be like throwing you right to the sharks."

"And you have no idea what it's like on the outside."

"As long as I have the same opportunities as everyone else, I'll manage. It's got to be better than what it's like on the _inside_."

"But you'd be at a disadvantage." A look of confusion graced her face. "You wouldn't have a friend to lean on. Even when I was on the streets, I had my gang to rely on."

"But-"

"And anyway, Hilde would never forgive me if she found out I just let you go off and live all alone on a strange colony. There's no arguing it. You are going to stay with me and Hilde."

"I know when a battle's lost. You win; I'll go with you. But just until I get back on my feet."

"Deal." They shook on it and then headed to the ticket booth. Relena looked at the bus schedule and her watch and turned on Duo. 

"Duo, if you knew where I was going, why did it take us two hours to walk ten blocks?" He only ginned. She realized she might never get a straight answer from him, so she just decided to leave it at that. She turned back to the teller and bought two tickets to the New London space port. Duo was still grinning when they left to catch the bus.

While waiting for the bus to arrive Duo couldn't help but stare at the back of her head, somewhat remorsefully. He could not fathom why anyone would want to hack off all those wonderful, healthy tresses.

"I still can't get over what you did to your hair! It was so long!"

"Duo, Duo, Duo. . ." she mock scolded with a shake of her head. "Hasn't Hilde ever told you? It's not the length that counts, it's the thickness." Duo burst out laughing.

"You are most definitely the last person I expected to make a dirty joke," he screwed up his face thoughtfully. "Well, if I kept Quatre and Heero off the list." It was Relena's turn to laugh.

  


*~*~*


	3. A New Life

MetaMorphosis

_"It is not the perfect, but the imperfect, who have need of love._

_It is when we are wounded by our own hands, or the hands of others, _

_that love should come to cure us -- else what use is love at all?"_

_-Oscar Wilde_

  


Serena pulled her overcoat tighter across her uniform, but the frigid wind still cut her viciously. Her throat and nose were burning from the extreme cold she had been inhaling for the past three blocks, and she could barely feel her legs below the knee. As she turned the next corner she was almost knocked over by the sheer force of the gale as it ripped through the wind tunnel created by the skyscrapers lining the street. The weather systems were definitely overdue for an overhaul. Here it was, early May, nearly six months since she first arrived on the colony, and the mercury had barely risen over what it had been in November.

Her eyes teared up and her vision blurred, but she could still make out her brownstone at the end of the block. Serena tucked her head down and made a mad dash for the now familiar stoop.

Once safely within the building she let out a sigh of relief and immediately her hand flew to her pained throat. When she got in she would have to make some tea. She trudged wearily up the stairs, flinching when she heard a shrill voice calling her name.

"Miss Windsor!" the landlady huffed from the doorway of her ground level apartment. She was waving a piece of paper, presumably Serena's lease, and looked livid. Despite her body's protests, she turned around and slogged back down the stairs.

"Miss Windsor, you _still_ haven't paid your rent! I am trying to run a business here!" The overweight woman appeared to Serena like a blowfish in her yellow house robe, all puffed up and looking for a fight. Serena quickly started spewing apologies.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hutches, I really am. I've been working twelve hour shifts but even with tips, I'm earning below minimum wage. Could you please just give me until my next paycheck? I'm sure that by then I'll be able to pay what I owe." The older woman's eyes softened at her pleas and without the stern mask, her face hinted that it once must have been lovely.

"Alright, but only because I used to be a waitress too, and I know what it's like." Then the mask came back. "But don't think that you can canoodle me into letting you live here for free! That check had better be in my hand when the fifteenth comes around." She spun around with a great flourish and slammed her apartment door in Serena's face before she even got the chance to thank her.

Two flights of stair later, Serena closed her apartment door, locked the knob, the two deadbolts, and the chain before staggering into the tiny adjoining room and collapsing onto the bed. She was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

*

"Duo, how many times have I told you that motor oil is not meant to be _ingested_! If you want this sandwich, take off your gloves first."

"OK, OK, OK. . . ." Duo obeyed and was rewarded with lunch. Before he could even get a bite, though, the vidphone started ringing. He pouted up at Hilde, who with a sigh of exasperation, put back the milk she was pouring and walked out into the living room to answer it.

He was picking the crumbs off his plate when Hilde walked back in.

"That was Hal down at the Diner."

"Is everything all right?"

"No. He said that Lena fainted during the morning shift. He sent her home an hour ago, but she never answered her phone when he called. He was wondering if one of us would check on her. You know, to make sure she got home all right." Duo checked the clock on the wall.

"I'll go – I've still got plenty of time left on my lunch break."

"OK, hold on; I'll go get some chicken soup. I know she doesn't have any in that closet she calls an apartment."

Twenty minutes later, Duo was digging around in his pockets for his set of spare keys. He'd already knocked lightly twice, and if she was asleep, he didn't want to wake her up. The knob and the deadlocks were no problem, but for the chain he had to actually reach inside and maneuver the corresponding key into the keyhole that dropped the fetter.

Once inside, he looked into the bedroom, sighing in relief when he found her there asleep. She must have just walked in and fallen into bed, judging by the fact that she was still wearing her coat over the orange waitress uniform and her keys were lying on the floor where she had apparently dropped them. Duo knelt beside the bed and gently touched her forehead. She didn't have a fever; that always a good sign. He surmised that she was simply exhausted from her outrageous work schedule and all the overtime she had been putting in. It had been bound to catch up with her sooner or later.

Duo walked back into the main room and immediately felt a chill he hadn't noticed before. Glancing around, he quickly found the source. He moved across the space toward the window and re-taped the plastic over the missing pane.

"When is she gonna let me fix that for her?" he asked aloud in frustration.

"When she can afford to pay you for it."

"Sorry," Duo turned around to apologize. "I didn't mean to wake you up." She still looked very much asleep to him, though. Kind of like she was sleep walking.

"No, it's OK," she assured him as she stumbled toward the hook by the door and shed her overcoat. Her voice was a little raspy, he noted. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep like that. Would you like something?" She went over to the stove and picked up the kettle.

"Gods," Duo shook his head in disbelief. "You can take the lady out of the gentry, but you can't take the gentry out of the lady."

"And you can take the man out of the Gundam, but you can't take the Gundam out of the man," she shot back with an accompanying smirk while filling the pot with water from the faucet. "How did you know I was home?"

"Psychic intuition." She glanced at him over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. After shutting off the water, she turned on him, kettle in hand.

"I thought that was Quatre's domain."

Duo just shrugged. "Or Hal could've called from the Diner."

"Oh? Why didn't he call here?" She twisted a knob on the stove and it clicked a few times before lighting.

"He says he did – several times, in fact." Serena almost dropped the heavy kettle when she placed it over the flame, and then let it fall to her side tiredly.

"Oh . . . I guess I must've been really out of it," she sighed and rubbed her sore bicep.

"I can believe it, what with the hours you've been working. You should probably give him a call and tell him you're OK or something. Hilde said he seemed really worried about you."

"I guess I should do that now," she reached for her rotary phone. Duo came and stood next to her, watching her manipulate the device.

"So that's how that thing works," he mumbled to himself, honestly intrigued by the piece of ancient technology. Serena shooed him away, thinking that he was mocking her lack of a vidphone. When the Hal picked up on the other end, Duo set the container he was carrying on the kitchen counter, interlocked his fingers behind his head and graciously gave her what little privacy the small apartment afforded. 

He hoped that Hal got up the courage to ask Lena out soon – it was obvious the guy had a thing for her. He was always stuttering when he tried to talk to her, he watched her while she served the customers, and he seemed amazed every time she came in contact with him, even if it was a casual touch. For her sake too; Duo had never seen her the least bit interested in any man other than Heero for as long as he had known her. It would be good for her to start thinking about a _normal _guy in that context.

Serena hung up the phone and turned back to Duo.

"Hal says 'thanks' for checking on me for him. He's a nice guy," she tilted her head in thought before continuing. She seemed about to say something but then shook her head with a smile, as if to dislodge the thought from her mind. Duo wanted to make a comment, but didn't. Instead he brought her attention to the homemade chicken soup that was sitting, waiting to be consumed. 

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Just the cereal I had before work." Duo was about to suggest the soup when he realized something.

"Waitaminit, you don't have a refrigerator."

"So?"

"So how can you have cereal without milk?" She reached into the cupboard and tossed him a half-empty box. "_Powdered _milk?" He didn't even bother to hide his disgust.

"A little cold water and it's almost like the real thing." Duo just shuddered.

*

A half hour later found Serena alone again and sitting on the floor of her apartment, leaning against the wall with a steaming bowl of chicken soup in her lap. She stared at the pattern through the yellow broth for a moment, pondering the mismatched tableware left in the dwelling when she had moved in a few months ago. She sighed and watched her breath ripple the surface of the broth before standing up and switching on the radio. After fiddling with the tuner for a minute, she found an orchestra playing Mozart's requiem and turned up the volume before sitting back down. 

For a long time now she had been skipping lunch, mostly because she couldn't afford to take lunch breaks. She knew that if she ever asked, though, Hal would let her eat at the Diner for free. She couldn't do that in good conscience when she was well aware of how tight money was for Hal as well. She knew she was paying for it now, what with her passing out and being sent home, but now that she had time and food in front of her, she found she just couldn't eat.

She stood up and set the bowl aside, thinking she might find it more appetizing after a nap. She was _exhausted_. She hadn't been lying when she told Mrs. Hutches about her twelve hour shifts, and she thought she might scream if she had to heft another tray laden with other people's food. And as she neared the bed, she felt her body getting heavier with each step. Kicking off her shoes and quickly changing out of her uniform into a plain shirt and flannel pants, she crawled under the covers and buried her face in the pillow. A sigh of contentment escaped her lips before she completely lost touch with reality, fading into Morpheus's dream realm.

*

"So how was Lena?" Hilde asked, looking up from the dishes she was washing.

"Tired, but fine," Duo answered from the doorway. He hung up his coat, stuffing his gloves and scarf into the pockets. "She wasn't answering the phone 'cause she was asleep."

"I'm glad," she put the plate she had been drying off to the side. Duo continued to talk while he picked up the few dishes to put them away.

"She's just been pushing herself way too hard. She must think she's Wonder Woman or something."

"Isn't she?" Hilde plucked a dishrag from its hook and dried her hands. Duo turned to her. "Just look at everything she's been through. . .it's like the Three Plagues of Roses. 

"Frogs, rashes, and firstborn sons? I'm sorry, I don't see the connection"

"'Roses', not 'Moses'. Duo, watch what you're doing!" She grabbed his arm before he put a plate through the glass door of the cupboard.

"Oops. Sorry about that." He reached up with his free hand and opened the door. The dish settled into place with a clack, and Duo paused, apparently to contemplate his task. "How come we never use the dishwasher?"

"For only two plates?"

"It's always going to be 'only two plates'," Duo pointed out.

"Maybe, maybe not." She turned back to the sink, balling up the dishrag and busying herself with drying off the counter.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hilde turned to stare at his back as he wrestled with the one cabinet door that always stuck. He could be so dense sometimes. 

"Well we could have guests, one of these days," she covered. Duo just shrugged.

"Anyway, explain to me the three plagues thing."

"Well, lets see," she took his hand and led him to the living room couch. He sat down at one corner and she stretched out the length of it, reclining against his shoulder. "'The Three Plagues of Roses' is a story my mother told me when I was a child. Personally, I think she made it up, but nevertheless, it was always one of my favorites." Duo's arm snaked around her waist, coming to rest nonchalantly on her hip.

"The story goes that Frigg, a goddess of pregnancy and childbirth as well as a seeress, told her husband Odin, the king of the gods, that a child would be born who would unite the German tribes against the Romans. The gods decided that if the child was going to grow up noble enough to unify all the tribes under peace, it would have to endure certain . . . ordeals. When a baby girl was born to the ruling family of one of the many tribes, the gods sent her three roses; one red, one yellow, and one white. Whenever a rose died, it would mark the beginning of one of three plagues that would befall her during her life." Duo's hold on her tightened and he pulled her small frame into his lap. Hilde took no notice of this as she continued her narrative.

"Of the enchanted flowers, the red was the first to wilt and die. It did so when the girl was barely old enough to comprehend that which proceeded the omen. Her tribe was attacked by Roman legions and her family was killed. She was rescued by a servant, who took the child and ran away to another tribe with her and the remaining two roses. She had to live with the memory of watching her household being murdered, but she learned humility and compassion.

"Several years later, when the girl was barely a woman, with a husband and a child on the way, the yellow rose started losing its petals while at the same time her adopted tribe went to war with the Romans. It was very agonizing for her to watch the tribe's men and her new husband being killed when she herself could not help, but doing so taught her patience. When the women of the tribe went back to the battlefield to bury the dead, she saw Goths and Romans alike lying prostrate in the blood soaked mire, and she learned forgiveness for her enemies." Duo waited patiently for her to continue, but she didn't. She just stared off into space, a blank expression on her face. Eventually she sighed and leaned her head on his chest.

"What about the third plague?" he asked.

"What?" she looked lost and then seemed to remember the story. "Oh, the third. It never came to pass."

"Huh?"

"You see, when the prophecy was first made, Loki the Trickster had made a drunken bet that she would not survive the ordeals . So now that he saw he was about to lose the bet, he decided to make sure she would not succeed. He stole a glimpse at the book of fate to find out what the third plague would be. He then left Asgard, the realm of the gods, and found the girl – who was now a full grown woman with a young child. Loki waited until nightfall and then came to her in a dream, revealing to her what the third ordeal would be. She awoke screaming and immediately took her dead husband's sword from the wall, and impaled herself on the blade."

"But what-"

"Time for you to go back to work," she cut him off, looking at her watch. She kissed him quickly and got up off his lap. When he didn't move, she twisted the rag and flicked it at him. He yelped and jumped off the couch, holding his hands up in defense.

"OK, I'm going! But I feel gypped." He made a very creative face at her before turning around and snatching up his work gloves from the edge of the counter.

"Stick that tongue out at me again, Mister, and I'll bite it off!" She wagged a finger at him. His hand paused on the doorknob and he stood still for a moment. Hilde almost thought something was wrong, but then Duo quickly stuck his tongue out at her again over his shoulder and dashed out the door. She growled playfully before giving chase.

  


*~*~*


	4. A Dark Dream

MetaMorphosis

_"A dreamer is one who can only find his way_

_by moonlight, and his punishment is that he_

_sees the dawn before the rest of the world."_

_-Oscar Wilde_

  


Serena tossed restlessly in the darkened room, the sheets twisted and knotted about her legs. With a final start, she sat up, panting and glancing about the empty space. Her breathing slowed as she calmed herself, and she raised a shaking hand to her brow, wiping away a cold sweat. Kicking her legs free of the sheets, she slid off the bed and staggered toward the doorway, grabbing onto the empty frame momentarily before continuing to the bathroom.

She leaned over the sink and stared at the darkened reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, then reached up with her right hand and traced the unfamiliar streaks on her cheek. Her fingers recoiled against the feel of dampness there. 

Serena jerked the lever on the sink violently, yanked the plug mechanism, and waited for the basin to fill with water. When it was filled halfway, she plunged her face under the surface and held it there while the water continued to run. When she began to consider staying under, she wrenched her head up, splashing water across the small room. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps while she fumbled with faucet, turning off the water and opening the drain. Grabbing an elastic hair band from the medicine cabinet, she combed her dripping hair into a ponytail with her fingers and secured it at the nape of her neck. Grabbing a towel, she mopped her face and then the floor, her heart still pounding in her chest. 

The mindless work helped to distract her from the nightmare, but she couldn't hide from her own subconscious forever. She crouched down in the corner of the tiled room, clutching the towel to her chest like a security blanket. Serena was still sweating, and she realized that she felt uncomfortably hot. She pulled her tee shirt away from her skin with one hand, and pushed beads of sweat from her brow with the towel in the other. 

Pulling herself up from the floor and finding the door, she staggered to the broken window in the main room and pulled the plastic aside. She was immediately hit with a gust of icy wind, causing the hair on her arms and neck to stand on end. She sighed with relief as the heat radiating from her body was blown away by the wintry draft. Serena immediately crumpled beneath the window, and pressed her throbbing head to the cool surface of the wall. She cringed in pain when the pounding increased as snippets of her nightmare came back to her.

*

"What's with him?" Serena nodded to a guy sitting beside to a dumpster, hunched over and crying softly to himself.

"Him?" Duo looked up from the engine, a smear of grease across his brow from where he had wiped away perspiration. "Oh, _him_," he repeated, following her gaze through the dirty windows in the garage. "He's a skie addict."

"Skie? Never heard of it."

"Superiority complex in a bottle. It was invented for people with phobias. For a few hours, you're infallible; you fear nothing. You don't know hubris until you've seen a skie junkie on a high. That's how it got its name; you feel so untouchable, as if you're up in the sky and everyone else is a bug beneath you."

"And the price for all that self confidence?"

"When you come down, you come down _hard_. Your self esteem plummets, you become depressed, you feel worthless, yadda-yadda. People who use it become mentally dependent. The drug itself can't kill ya, but its after-effects have lead to more than a couple suicides."

"I'm getting depressed just thinking about it."

"Folks started noticing the new junk on the street about ten or fifteen years ago, when the number of people jumping offa skyscrapers started to climb. Even with the limited contact between colonies under the Alliance, the police managed to figure it out – after a while." Duo gave his wrench a final twist, then wiped his hands on a indelibly soiled rag, leaving the wrench sticking out of the mess of unfamiliar metal and tubes at an odd angle. "Turned out all the people who'd died with it in their system had something in common: working in the public eye." Duo looked at his hands and grimaced; he had lost his gloves again. He sighed in defeat at the black stains under his fingernails and in the creases of his palms before looking back to Serena. "They'd been using it as a cure for stage fright, became addicted to the effects, and ended up killing themselves when they were cut off."

"Sounds like a pretty pathetic end."

"You ain't just whistlin' Dixie." He threw the rag onto the work table and smiled at her. "This conversation is too gloomy. Lets go inside and see what Hilde's got for lunch."

Serena smiled back and followed him across the minefield that was the garage floor to the back door to the house, opening it for him with a laugh when Duo forgot his grease-stained hands and nearly grabbed the handle himself.

*

"Is everything alright?" Serena turned around and caught Hilde watching her from the sink with a worried expression. The two women were left alone in the kitchen, Duo having been banished to the bathroom with a decrepit rag and lye soap. 

"Of course," she responded, leaning across the counter that cordoned off the kitchen from the dining area. Hilde still looked skeptical.

"Are you sure there's nothing you wanna talk about before Duo comes back down?" Hilde had always had an innate sense of when Serena needed to confide something – an enduring characteristic of their friendship since their first meeting on the Libra. Usually Serena didn't even bother to argue the point, instead immediately capitulating and "spilling her guts," as Hilde like to call it. This time, however, Serena would rather not disclose her secrets so easily. Instead, she attempted to change the subject.

"What about you?" she queried. "You haven't even _tried_ to tell him, have you?" Hilde was caught off guard by this new line of conversation and a surprised expression graced her features before being driven off by an embarrassed smile and accompanying blush.

"I tried hinting it to him," she defended meekly, "but sometimes he is so thick."

"Daddy-to-be is a far cry from his range of expertise – you had to know that just hinting wouldn't be enough for him." Hilde's blush deepened at "daddy-to-be." Apparently she hadn't gotten used to the idea of "mommy-to-be" yet either. Suddenly Hilde's expression turned serious.

"What if he doesn't want it? What if it changes our relationship?"

"Babies _always_ change _everything_ – there isn't any point to worrying about _that_. But as for whether he wants it. . . ." Serena shrugged. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Hilde looked mournfully down at the chicken she was thawing under water in the sink and a small part of Serena worried if maybe the pregnancy _was_ too much for her friend to handle after all. Hilde sighed and smiled sadly at Serena.

"When you're right, you're right. I guess I should stop tiptoeing around the subject and just come out and tell him." Serena made no comment; her mind had drifted from that train of the conversation and was mulling over other issues.

"Hilde?" Hilde looked up, slightly surprised at the worried tone in her friend's voice. "Remember to take it easy, OK? Don't go taking any unnecessary risks."

"Don't worry about me," she said lightheartedly. "I'll be fine."

*

Serena entered her apartment, hanging her jacket on the wall hook before closing and locking the door behind her. She raised a hand to her forehead, already feeling the headache starting in her right temple. She entered her bedroom, changed into her nightclothes, and grabbed a warm blanket from her bed before reentering the apartment's main room. Crossing the room, she turned on the radio that sat on the counter near the stove, letting the sound of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony fill the room. She dragged the blanket over to a large, padded chair she had recently acquired secondhand and practically built herself a nest there next to the recently mended and heavily curtained window. 

It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

*

"Hey, Quatre!" Duo greeted jovially. The face in the vidscreen smiled back cordially.

"Duo!" Quatre exclaimed. "It's been a long time!"

"Yeah, it has," he agreed. Normally he would have continued with the polite introductory conversation before getting to the point of his phone call, but this time Duo was too excited to hold it in far past "hello." Bubbling over with pride and excitement, he blurted out, "Hilde's pregnant!"

"What?!" Quatre's eyes lit up and he smiled widely. "Duo that's great! I'm so happy for you!"

"Yeah, she just told me like five minutes ago and I couldn't wait to tell someone!"

"I'm glad I'm so high on your list of people to call!" Quatre said with a laugh.

"God, Quatre! I just can't believe it! I'm going to be a father!"

"Congratulations, Duo. I know you're going to be a great parent."

"Thanks."

Duo and Quatre continued talking for over an hour, catching up on each other's lives since their last conversation several months ago. Despite his excitement, Duo managed to avoid the topic of Relena's disappearance very well – that is, of course, until Quatre outright asked about it.

"Have you heard anything from Relena?" Quatre asked, his expressive eyes betraying his worry.

"No, not for a while," he responded honestly. It _had _been a couple of days since Lena had stopped by, after all.

"Anything since her disappearance?" Duo could tell by his friend's expression that he wasn't expecting an affirmative answer. He also knew it would be easy to lie to Quatre when he was this pessimistic – his lie would probably never come under suspicion – but he still could not bring himself to deceive his friend. Duo didn't need to lie though; his hesitation had spoken volumes and Quatre's hope had been piqued. "Duo?"

"You know my policy on lying, Quatre." The blonde man's eyes widened with some indefinable emotion.

"You _have _heard from her! How is she doing? Is she alright?"

"Quatre," Duo started, strained. "I promised. . . ."

"You don't have to tell me everything – I just want to know if she's healthy." Duo found himself looking into his best friend's sorrowful expression with pity, and knew he was broken. "Please, Duo. Is she OK?"

"Yeah, she's fine," he replied with a sigh, feeling guilty for betraying the confidences of two friends at once. That guilt was quickly replaced by an overwhelming feeling of urgency. "But you can't tell anyone. No – more than that. If it comes up you have to flat out lie! I may have a policy against lying, but you don't! I don't want one word of this getting out to _anyone_. Got that? Not even another Gundam pilot."

"Of course, Duo. You have my word." Duo knew he could trust Quatre, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. After all, it wasn't his own secret he was supposed to be protecting – it was the secret of the former Queen of the World.

*

Serena groaned as a wave of nausea washed over her, dragging her from her brief respite of dreamless sleep. She curled in on herself and clutched at her abdomen, breathing shallowly and hiding her eyes against the glaring light of the dawn which shone into her window and through a gap in the curtains to fall on her face as she slept in the large armchair. Somehow, no matter how she arranged the curtains each night, the next day the dawn would find her and pierce her with its rays.

After several long moments, she finally managed to open her eyes while turned away from the window and toward the room. Her vision was blurry and unfocused, but she thought she saw a pair of slanted Prussian blue eyes staring back at her.

"Heero. . . ?"

  


*~*~*


End file.
